I Am My Father's Son
by Min Daae
Summary: Read author's note at the top for an explanation; a collection of 35 drabbles centered on Curufin, the fourth and favorite son of Feanor. Fanon-heavy, though where information is given from text it is used. Rating for violence and death.


_Author's Note: This is a set of themed drabbles, focused on Curufin but involving a number of other characters, following the arc of his life. Inspired my music, the lyrics have been quoted ahead of each drabble, along with the song and artist. For the curious, all songs are purchasable on iTunes or hearable on . Not a songfic in that the drabbles aren't incorporating the songs - just based off the mood, and sometimes the lyrics. _

* * *

**Inside of You, In Spite of You – ThouShaltNot**

_I am hidden memories that you seek  
I am the sun before you see me rise  
I burn still when you close your eyes  
I am the soul that never dies when flesh is weak_

Tyelko was watching him closely. He could feel his elder brother's gaze heavy on his back as he pulled the greaves over his forearms and slid the light mail over his tunic. "Turco, stop staring. I'm not going to leave without you."

"…do you feel something?" He asked, suddenly. "Something – in the air. Ill-omened. I feel as though-"

"How often must I tell you," Curufin said coolly, "That you feel too much? Come, Turco. Do you truly expect _us _to be beaten by some pitiful Sindarin whelp too overproud to realize that he has bitten off too much?"

He could almost hear Turco twitch. "If I don't come back-"

"Of course you'll come back," he said, sharply. "Unless you plan to flee with whatever rabble are left. Come, Turco, enough. Go gather your men. It is time this farce was over with."

After his brother was gone, Curufin looked toward the shadow of the forest, just on the horizon. A cold smile flickered around his lips. "And now your doom, little king," he murmured, softly. "If any feel dread this day, let it be you."

**Mama – My Chemical Romance**

_Mama, we're all gonna die.  
Mama, we're all gonna die.  
Stop asking me questions, I'd hate to see you cry,  
Mama, we're all gonna die._

Curufin found his mother instead of his father, and nearly froze when he saw her there. He raised his eyebrows, covering his surprise with a droll tone. "—Amil. Is something the matter?"

"You are leaving too," she said, seeming unsurprised, but pale with unhappiness – or resignation. He narrowed his eyes and read her decision in her eyes.

"I would not leave my father to face the Enemy alone," he said, with pride. "You cannot expect me to, surely."

"You will never return here," she said, and her voice had something fell in it. "None of you will ever return. Only ashes and dust."

He looked at her for a few moments, and laughed, suddenly, a queer and unnatural sound. "Well then, in the end, I hope you will remember to mourn us well, Amil," he said lightly, almost flippant, and turned to look elsewhere for his father.

**Greed – Assemblage 23**

_Avarice, the muse that guides you__  
You are the sum of what you gain__  
But it won't buy your soul redemption  
The kind of wealth you can't obtain_

"Was there ever any so cold as you are?"

Curufin smiled, barely, looking out at the water, the color of the burning ships just visible out of the corner of his eyes. Caranthir stood just behind his shoulder, and Curufin could feel his tension, vibrating with the urge to lash out. He waited.

No blow came.

"Speak, damn you," Caranthir snarled.

"No," Curufin said, and flung his torch into the water.

**Miseria Cantare (The Beginning) – AFI**

_Love your hate, your faith lost  
You are now one of us  
Love your hate, your faith lost  
You are now one of us_

He found his son brooding in silence just a few days after the landing, and looked down at him, fighting not to be scornful. "What troubles you, boy?" Sympathy, he reminded himself. He is your son. Balance discipline with reward. You must be certain of him when the time comes.

Tyelpe was very still, almost motionless, and did not look up. "—you would think it weak."

"All the better, then, that you tell me and I will make sure that you do not…expend your energy on foolish worries."

"I was thinking of mother," he said, of a few moments. "I suppose I didn't understand how far…until now."

Curufin paused, considering how best to answer the boy's concern. He felt no regrets, himself, but he had years of discipline to gain that edge. The boy would need time. He was barely even grown. "You are not her son," he said, finally. "You are not hers. You are mine, and you belong with me. In leaving, you have only followed the path a son should take. She chose to remain, and thus chose to lose us both. That is the end of it."

"Am I just supposed to forget?" He sounded almost angry, and Curufin flushed.

"By all means, remember if you wish," he snapped. "But I will never tolerate self-pity, especially in you. I cannot allow my only son such weakness. And that is all it is. Weakness. As all emotion."

**The Life and Death of Mr. Badmouth – PJ Harvey**

_No kind words are coming out of your mouth  
Plenty goes in but nothing good comes out  
Badmouth, sad mouth, you were an unhappy child  
That doesn't make your lying tongue alright_

In the dark, he watched the ships burn, and saw it over again.

The night before, he'd seen Telvo creep out of the camp and onto the ships. He'd stood in the dark and seen his younger brother planning to betray their father. He'd nearly gone, then, to speak to him, to pull him back and remind Telvo of their duty – but then his father came to him with the torches.

He'd hesitated once, standing next to the hull of the ship, but in the emptiness of cold emotion, the place he found best for action, where he thought most clearly, he saw it.

Telvo made his choice, to return in servitude. Telvo could return in servitude if he wished, but he would not let his father be wounded by such a betrayal. Perhaps Mandos would take his sacrifice well.

Let him be the almighty judge of that, if he so wished.

The hull of the ship took some time to catch, but once it did, the blaze seemed to reach all the way to the stars. If he heard screaming, faintly, from the hull, he turned his head aside and said nothing to no one.

No one else realized until the morning.

**The Curse of Fëanor – Blind Guardian**

_I will always remember their cries  
Like a shadow which covers the light  
I will always remember the time  
But it's past  
I cannot turn back the time_

If he had ever had any faith in the Valar, it died now. It died here, and now, on this small hillock in the middle of nowhere, with his father.

For the first time, he wanted to weep and his eyes were dry. He could have risen then, he thought, against Manwë himself, and been afraid of no retribution. He could have struck at any of the Valar, and his hatred would be enough to make them kneel, because they had brought his father low. And it was all over.

It was all ending, because his father was dead, and the world could turn no more, and the earth could not possibly continue to make its cool passage through the seasons, not now that his father, the greatest of the Noldor, had died.

Ashes and dust. His heart _ached _and he hated the feeling more than he hated any other feeling, because all he wanted was anger and bitterness, not the sorrow that came with them.

"Revenge, father," he whispered, alone with what remained of him, as his brothers dispersed like grains of sand at the winds. "I swear I will avenge you. I swear it. By my life and death, until the world shall cease, I swear it."

**Varulven (Werewolf) – Gamarna**

_(translation not available)  
_

The forge was no joy to him, not any longer, not with the memories of his father's teachings, and life itself seemed joyless if it were not for his promise. He would not be forsworn. He would make his way, succeed, alone if he had to.

It was the sword he loved. The sword, and the power.

It intoxicated him, discovering – not for the first time, but perhaps more than ever – the power he could have over people. He could bend them to his will with no more than a voice. Just as his father had done.

It was that power that he delighted in, the ability to bend words to his will and by bending them, people as well. Makalaurë might have the singing voice, but Curufin doubted that he would ever have Curufin's gift, all the same.

It was those times, speaking with passion, even when he hardly felt anything, left cold by his father's death, that he felt it, and exulted as his father filled him.

He could feel his spirit with him at those moments, and went dizzy with elation, buoyed up by his father's whisper of _yes, yes, that's it. _

It was intoxicating, heady as wine; he grew heavy with it, and yearned when it was gone only to feel it again.

**Hope On Fire – Vienna Teng**

_Gotta fight gotta strike  
'cause there's no turning away  
From what you don't want to know  
Gotta see gotta be  
If they're all going astray  
Don't let them take you in tow_

"Curufinwë," Maedhros said, tightly, "Do not – please, do _not _make enemies of our cousins."

He leaned back, lounging, eyes half closed in apparent laziness, his long hunting knife across his lap.

"I do not try," he drawled. "They seem to dislike me, for some reason."

"You are deliberately provoking Findekáno. If you force him into a fight-"

"I force him into nothing, Maitimo, I assure you." A chilly smile flickered around his lips. "Whatever he does is entirely of his own will."

"He outranks you," Maitimo said, nearly desperate, "And may be High King someday. Listen to me-"

"Not if I can help it," Curufin said, softly, settling one hand down on the table lightly. "Not if I can help it, brother mine."

**Butterflies & Hurricanes – Muse**

_Best, you've got to be the best  
You've got to change the world  
And use this chance to be heard  
Your time is now_

_Change everything you are  
And everything you were  
Your number has been called_

On nights, he went out and lay under the stars, listening for his father's voice on the winds. He rarely felt anything, but when he did, he tried to find the words to say everything he had never said when Fëanor was alive.

"We are doing what we must," he would say, "Doing what we can to win your war."

"I would never do anything less than everything for you," he would say. "I am giving you everything, this everything. We cannot but succeed."

"They may always be weak," he would say, "But I will stand strong for you as long as I live."

"I killed many orcs today. The sword you made me was warm in my hand, their blood was sticky between my fingers. I thought I could feel your spirit in me."

He accepted the silence, because the Valar had bound his father so cruelly away, accepted that as proof that their traps held his father yet. He continued to speak anyway, in the privacy of the dark, but never quite managed with all his words to say what he meant.

"Father, I miss you," he said once, or began to say, and then fled, almost as though he was frightened of the secrets his mouth revealed.

Too close.

**Oblivion – Patrick Wolf**

_"O' my stubborn son  
__I know that you said  
You need no one  
But don't you see  
Danger, danger, danger  
Headed to oblivion..."_

"You will _listen _to me, boy!"

He hated that his son could make him lose his temper, lose control. He hated that his own son should be the cause of this kind of fury. He hated that he had not recognized his authority slipping away until it was far too late. "Leave this forge," he said, stridently, "Leave this place, for all I care, but you _will _listen to me."

Celebrimbor looked up at him, gaze cool – so much like his mother. When had that happened? How had he missed it happening? Damn Finrod, damn Morgoth and his machinations, and now he'd lost his son – but no, he would not give up.

"No," Celebrimbor said, his hammer in one hand, and his knuckles white. "I am no longer a child, father. You cannot simply expect me to obey because you say so. I will not speak against Findarato. I know what you are doing, and I find it despicable."

Rage burned through him, and he nearly, for a moment, wanted to strike his son. Tyelpe didn't move, did not back down. "—think on it," he said, at last. "Think on what you are saying about where your loyalties lie, if you truly wish to betray your family, betray _me-_"

"I am not the traitor," he said, and Curufin could only pretend he had not heard. If he had turned back, he thought he might have killed his only offspring, and there were still things he would not do.

**Winterhearted – Xandria**

_One of us is winterhearted  
One of us is cold as ice  
One of us is breaking hearts  
And it's not me_

It was because of Tyelpe that he thought of his wife for the first time in centuries.

He found the ring, tucked away in his room in a secret place, that he had not looked at for so long. It had never been an easy marriage. But nothing that was easy was worth having. And she had given him a son.

A son that was now turning against him. He closed the ring in his fist and looked at the wall, remembering her face, as white as the walls when he told her that he would leave, and told her that she could come with him and be damned, or stay and never see him again.

If she had ever loved him, he thought, maybe she had realized it then, but she had still said nothing. "No," she said, and asked for Tyelpe.

He comes with me, he'd said, cold and uncompromising, and her head had snapped back as if she'd been struck.

She thought him cold, perhaps, as so many others did. Needlessly cold. She was a fragile thing, it seemed, sometimes, light to the touch and the eye.

"He is _my _son," he said fiercely, to the wall. "Not hers. Mine. I made him."

Celebrimbor's eyes were too much like his mother's. It was her that all this trouble came from. Only her.

**The Last One Standing – Ladytron**  
_You said you said I made a bad decision  
I said I made a mistake  
Failure without recognition  
But how would I know  
Know of what consequence, had I first seen_

Finrod knew his time was up. Curufin could see it in his eyes every time he faced his cousin, and it would only be a matter of time before everything fell into place. Only a matter of time. However, he had summoned Curufin today, and sat in his throne.

As if he needed the reminder of his own authority.

Curufin smiled.

"You called?"

Soon enough. It was lucky for Finrod that Curufin had always been very good at waiting.

**Snakes On a Plane (Bring It) – Cobra Starship**

_So kiss me goodbye  
Honey, I'm gonna make it out alive  
So kiss me goodbye  
I can see the venom in their eyes_

They stared at each other across the table, nothing but hostility in their eyes. "By all means," Curufin purred, softly. "Tell me why that is a better alternative. I'd love to be enlightened by your infinite wisdom."

"It's not strategically feasible," said Finrod in his quiet and reasonable voice. "We don't have the resources, or the time."

"So you would be a coward?"

Finrod stiffened. "Any who accused me of cowardice should also be a fool, Curufinwë. Recall that I am not suggesting an entire retreat-"

"Of course not. Only that of all the strongest fighters," He said, dryly. "You wouldn't want your throne stolen, after all." He heard the ripple of laughter behind him with satisfaction, and watched with pride the irritation on Finrod's face, just for a moment.

"Perhaps," he murmured, not letting his cousin say a word. "It might be best if you kept yourself to …domestic affairs. I will manage the battles."

"If nothing else will assuage your bloodlust, Kurvo," Finrod said, tightly, and Curufin smiled his thin and dangerous smile.

"I wouldn't want you to make yourself squeamish, my lord."

Another ripple of laughter, and Finrod turned away in anger. His satisfaction only grew.

**Silver Tongue – Sonata Arctica **

_I never saw anything so white _

_Call me Ishmael, if it ain't a lie.  
I am blinded by your revealing smile  
I can only be guilty of an innocent try  
You think you are right, in a way _

_It is something I hear every day._

It was coming to the time when he would have to break with his father.

He stood, hidden by the crowd, and listened to him speak. He had always been intense, some would say fanatical. Always a perfectionist, hard and stern and never compromising. But he could see now what Curufin was doing, and it made him sick.

Systematically turning Finrod's people from him. Making him weak, a laughingstock. Forcing Finrod to either fight back, and risk losing, or maintain his cool and appear weak rather than aloof. His father would force Finrod out, sooner or later.

He stayed in his forget, for the most part, but he heard enough. And he wanted no more of this.

But all the same…perhaps it would never go so far. Kurvo tested, yes, but Findarato was strong in his own right, and had to be aware of what was happening. Somehow, he would find some way to combat it, and his father would back down.

All the same, in his heart of hearts he thought he knew there would come a day when he would have to make his choice for once and all, to remain by his father's side or to turn away, and he dreaded facing that day more than anything.

His father's voice rose, and Celebrimbor turned away, desiring distantly that he could go back to seeing nothing but his father, but it seemed that this days it was more and more a snake looking out of Curufin's eyes.

**The Heart of Everything – Within Temptation**

_Open up your eyes  
Save yourself from fading away now  
Don't let it go  
Open up your eyes  
See what you've become, don't sacrifice  
It's truly the heart of everything_

Turco seemed slightly drunk, his body loose, sprawled across a couch. The bandage around his arm was staining through, slightly, but he seemed to ignore it. Probably in part because of the wine he was downing in gulps. Curufin watched him, almost amused.

"—we're going to die," Turco said, suddenly. He didn't sound like he was joking. "We're going to die, Kurvo, and go to the everlasting darkness."

"Does that scare you so much?"

Tyelko thought about that for a few moments. "Yes," he said, eventually. "Yes, it does. I like being alive."

"So do most," Curufin commented dryly. "You are no craven, Turco. Are you?"

"No," he said, vehemently, and drunkenly. "_No. _m'not. –aren't you worried about it?"

"No," Curufin said, and honestly. "I do not…seek it, for certain. But if I should die – I would always have been happy to die in Ata's name. And more so now that he is dead. I would consider it an honor to fall honoring his last wishes."

"…you're mad, Kurvo," Tyelko said, blurrily, closing his eyes. "No one – thinks like that."

"His life is worth all of ours," Curufin said softly. "Twice over," but his elder sibling was already asleep.

**Chosen – Assemblage 23**

_You'll live in fear because you're told to_

_You'll fall in line if you are wise_

_We're only here to help protect you_

_From the tyranny of compromise_

"I can't do this," Tyelko moaned, his head slipping forward into his hands. "I can't."

"Why not?" Curufin leaned forward and laid one hand over his brother's. "This changes nothing. This changes nothing at all."

"I can't," he said again, helplessly, and Curufin stood, coldly.

"What are you, Turco?"

"…a son of Fëanor," he said, after a few moments, though his face was still in his hands.

"Then have some damned pride in yourself," Curufin cried. "Think a little less of his so called worth and more of your own. You wanted this. Don't you still?"

"Yes," he said, "Yes, but I didn't – I'd rather kill him _myself _than like – this."

Curufin hissed, and glanced over his shoulder. "—Tyelko. It is his choice. You need to stop – thinking of this as murder. He chooses to leave alone, his death is on his own head. It is just the same as going into battle without a host, for stupid, stubborn, pride. It is nothing admirable. It is nothing _good._ You deserve this."

"Maedhros-"

"Is not here. Listen to me, brother. Have I ever led you wrong?" He could feel his eyes burning. "The world is ours, Tyelko. It has always been ours. Only have the bravery to reach out and take it."

He saw his brother's face harden. "—ours," he said, softly, and then louder. "Let this be done with."

**Crashing Down – Heather Dale**

_Where are all the things you fought for?  
All the dreams you shed your blood for  
Are they shabby now and fraying at the seams?_

They spoke together, with one voice. Finrod watched Curufin's face, however, and wasn't sure if he felt more sadness or anger for the depth of this betrayal.

They spoke well, that was undeniable. They would not have won them over otherwise. Part of it was Curufin's previous machinations, but even that was only part. This…this was something new, something in the power of both of them together, but it was Curufin holding the reins.

He understood, after a fashion. Their Oath held them. But it did not make this hurt any less. Could not.

"Enough!" He cried. "If you fear too much to follow me, you of this city, then I will go alone." He threw the crown down, and looked defiantly directly into Curufin's eyes. "Let no one say that I do not keep my oaths. I abdicate my throne, and let this madness be done with."

He thought he saw, just for a moment. Curufin smile. It was a terrible and bitter thing.

**Betrayal and Desolation – The London Symphony Orchestra**

_instrumental_

In the end, Finrod left with twelve others, and Orodreth took his place. Curufin stood at the gates and watched them go.

Others came, too, perhaps chastened, realizing that they had somehow been duped. He watched them with little interest, waiting for the party itself to approach. Thirteen elves and one man, against Morgoth and his lieutenant. A fool's mission. A fool's promise.

In another life, he might have pitied Finrod. But at the moment, he was just in the way.

Riding past, Finrod paused, just a moment, and glanced at him. His eyes were icy blue, and Curufin did not try to smile. "Die well, cousin," he said, softly enough that only he and Finrod could hear.

"They will know what you have done," Finrod said, low as well. "They will know, and they will turn on you as well, just as they have on me. Remember that, _cousin, _when your turn comes."

The rest passed in silence. Curufin looked through them all, thinking. Orodreth was weak. It could not take long to take all effective power out of his hands. And so he would do.

His life for your will, father, Curufin thought, and felt no response.

For the first time, a shiver of uncertainty ran down his spine.

It passed quickly, but the memory lingered for much longer.

**Noldor (Dead Winter Reigns) – Blind Guardian**

_Condemned and betrayed  
Now everything is said  
See my eyes  
Are full of tears  
And a cruel price  
We've paid  
But still I can't claim  
That I'm innocent_

Finrod was dead.

Finrod would be dead.

Curufin paced back and forth in his rooms, glanced at the door to be certain it was locked, looked out to window and saw no one. His dreams were dark and bleak, and he was disturbed by them, as little as he cared to admit that. Something in them was evil, somehow. He had never dreamed before, or never remembered them.

It was as though a chill wind was blowing through his very bones, and he had no power to stop it. For the first time since he had found his voice after his father's death, he felt…empty.

Not guilty. No. Finrod's death was his own fault, and nothing more. He had that conviction.

His son spoke to him tersely, if he spoke at all. Tyelko had sunk into a brooding melancholy that it seemed impossible to shake him from.

Something had to be done. Something had to change.

Perhaps it was Finrod's words. _When your turn comes. _

Was he truly so willing to die?

**Jane Doe – Within Temptation**

_Told the truth she laughed at you  
Something snapped inside  
She had to go or they would know  
all you tried to hide_

He coveted her from the moment he laid eyes on her.

It uncoiled in his chest, dark, thick and heady; a taste bitter and like salt on his tongue.

"Let me go."

She looked up at him, her face streaked with tears, blue eyes reddened slightly with long weeping. He considered her, and saw her slender white hands, folded over each other, shake slightly.

"My lady. What could I do to earn such a greeting?"

"Let me go, Curufin. This has lasted long enough." She stood, face still proud and beautiful, oh _beautiful, _even tear stained. "I have nothing to offer you. There is nothing I may do for you."

"And if I free you, what will you do?" He shook his head, putting a note of rueful reproach in his voice. "I cannot conscience it. We will speak later."

"Wait," she began to say, but he closed the door softly, pretending not to hear.

**Greedy – Ophelia of the Spirits**

_Take me down__  
There is nothing you can say to make me love you now  
__Look around  
All the voices of my dying dreams are silenced now_

She turned her head away. "You have nothing but hate in you," she whispered. "You are nothing but a black cloud full of hate – you can never give anything because you have nothing to give."

"If all I am is hatred, why am I here with you?" He reached out, gently turned her face toward him, waited for her eyes to sink into his. "I am not what you think I am." He made his voice soft, gentle, willing her to surrender.

"Then you are worse," she whispered. "Release me."

He released her, stung. "Your pride will be your downfall," he said, not quite sharply. "If you consider yourself so wise, consider what you are turning down. I have everything to offer you. Your Man is likely dead."

"I could never desire you," she said, after a short silence, "Not when you stink to me of hate and death. I would sooner die than ever have to spend my life with you."

**Night of the Hunter – 30 Seconds to Mars**

_Pray to your god, open your heart  
Whatever you do, don't be afraid of the dark  
Cover your eyes, the devil inside  
One night of the hunter  
One day I will get revenge  
One night to remember_

_One day it'll all just end_

"Gone?" For several moments he was nearly blind with fury, drew a deep and angry breath to spew his fury on this helpless guardsman who had discovered the door ajar and their valuable prisoner vanished.

Finally, he clenched his hands and managed to breathe deeply enough to wait until he could speak reasonably. "You are certain she is nowhere within the fortress? Surely the gates were closed."

"They were," he said, clearly nervous. Curufin turned away and breathed a few more moments, trying to manage his anger and think clearly. He could not be seen to have lost her. His control was already more slippery and tenuous than he had expected, and he could not afford to lose more because this _woman _slipped away. Damn her.

Tyelko came bursting in a moment later, however, his brow furrowed. "—Kurvo, have you seen Huan?" He asked, eyes full of worry, and Curufin understood at once.

This time he could not stop the roar of fury, and wheeled, slamming his fist into the stone wall. His knuckles split and bled and the guard flinched as he turned on him, snarling.

"Get out," he snarled. "Get out, and speak to no one of this, do you hear me? No one!"

**King of Insects – Assemblage 23**

_Burrow deep now  
Escape the light  
Heaven forbid you have to face  
The ones you slight_

_You will leave, _Orodreth had said, his face stern, the image of his uncle. _And swiftly, or I can take no responsibility for your miserable fate._

Curufin had once been able to go wherever he wished, to praise, or at least fear. They stared at him with open hostility now, these faces that had listened shining to his words not so long ago. He could almost feel Finrod's hate-filled spirit whispering in their ears, fulfilling with his family's witchery his dreadful prophecy.

Tyelko hardly seemed to notice. He'd sunk into a melancholy, a brooding from which it was more and more difficult to lift him. He would not speak of his thoughts, which was a first, and sat still for long hours, staring into fires – another first. It made him nervous.

They spat at him, and he turned, but no one was looking in his direction. All heads were identical. He squeezed the hilt of his sword with a snarl and quickened his pace back to his rooms.

Soon enough they would be left no choice. They would have to leave. The people of this place might not think of themselves as killers, but no one ever did until their enemy was dead-.

It was wiser to leave.

And what of your son, he thought, briefly. Will Celebrimbor leave with you?

He dismissed that thought. Of course he would. The boy had his doubts, his questions, but he was still his father's son, and always would be.

**Riot – Three Days Grace**

_If you feel so empty  
So used up, so let down  
If you feel so angry  
So ripped off so stepped on  
You're not the only one  
Refusing to back down  
You're not the only one  
So get up_

Dior's arrogance took his breath away. He held his father's most precious work, and thought that he could retain them. Thought that he could keep them back from their rightful place, from them, his heirs.

He would die for his insolence.

And yet his brothers, save Tyelko, seemed reluctant. It was his elder sibling he went to, and urged him to speak.

"If you say nothing," he said, rationally, "Then Maglor's bid for – peace, for cowardice, will win out. We cannot allow that. You cannot allow that. Think of all the injury that line has done you – us – and to think that they will – _bargain _to give it up is folly, and even our brother knows it."

"They will listen if I speak?" Tyelko said, but Kurvo could see the anger of the memories rising again in him.

"Yes," he said. "If you speak well."

It felt as though it were all coming together. Their father's work would soon be back in their hands, the upstart Dior dead. And it did not matter how many would have to fall in the path, as it never had. The ends would by far justify the means, and these Sindar would know the foolishness of meddling with what belonged to his father.

**Seawulf – Steve MacDonald**

_Viking child, oh Viking child  
Who will tame the wolf behind your smile?  
Viking child, so free and so wild  
Tell me why do you roam?  
Battle on, that Seawulf in search of home_

They told stories of him already.

He heard the whispers, sometimes, though not often. Perhaps those few thought he could not hear. Fëanor's Wolf, they called him, and it was not a compliment, but it made him smile just the same.

If the legacy he left was one of faithful, unswerving obedience to his father, then he could be proud of that. If the legacy that they remembered was his refusal to give, to back down and give way where lesser elves might, then he could be proud of that as well.

They might not understand his purpose, or see the meaning behind everything he did. But it was all for his father, all for Fëanor, and all that he ever did would always be for him.

Cunning, he was called. Merciless, sometimes. He flowed through Thargelion, ignoring them all, smiling slightly in satisfaction at the occasional look of fear.

Better fear than love for him, always. And they feared him. His men feared him, and his discipline, and his temper. Caranthir was wary of him, jealous of the power he held, perhaps remembering how effortlessly it had been taken from Finrod – lesser than his younger brother, of course, but perhaps not by so much.

He lived for one purpose. He wondered if it wasn't for the best, perhaps. Fëanor's Wolf was finally loose, and before long the land would feel his bite.

**Black Heart – Calexico**

_One man's righteousness is another man's  
Long haul, sentence carried out  
Long haul, counting the miles  
To the four corners of the world  
Spring is rusted shut, (faith's) coiled and cracked_

"Do you ever feel anything?" Caranthir asked, when they were alone in his study. His voice vibrated with tension. "Is everything just – an interesting movement in some elaborate game to you? You are _empty._"

"My loyalty is all I need," he said, letting it be all the scolding he needed to do. Caranthir flushed.

"Do not accuse me of lacking loyalty. I'm listening to you, that's loyalty enough."

"It's never been loyalty enough," Curufin said silkily. "What are you doing, Carnistir? What is your _purpose?_ To squat in these hills soaking money from dwarves, counting all your gold one coin at a time? Is that your grand design?"

"At least I'm not planning to get us all killed," Caranthir snapped, and Curufin just smiled, knowing that he had stung his brother.

"You shall have to do something eventually," he murmured. "Think on it. I'll give you time."

**Fury – Muse **

_Breathe in deep and cleanse away our sins  
And we'll pray that there's no God  
To punish us and make a fuss_

He stood out in the dark under the stars, and remembered that night on the hillock when he had felt all the Valar move against them. A wild euphoria filled him, and he threw his head back and laughed, loudly, madly.

"Do you move now? Do you move now, my lords, or do you hear nothing, unconcerned with the blood that will spill on your beloved ground? You cannot stop us now. You forced our hand to begin with, and now that it is done you are powerless to stop us.

"There is nothing you can do that will not be done in all the ages of time. You have no power over me. You have no power over any of us!"

He felt wild, with his sudden realization, and laughed more loudly. "---my father, he never died. He never died, because you could never hold him. He lives, still, and not only in me. We will live forever. We will live _forever, _and I mock your Doom, I mock your promises, I mock _you, _my lords, and if I rejected you before, come back now.

"Dance with me," he said, wild in this adrenaline pumping through his veins. "Dance with me, you Valar, and see if I do not win."

**Zombie – Miser **

_But you see, it's not me, it's not my family.  
In your head, in your head they are fighting,  
With their tanks and their bombs,  
And their bombs and their guns.  
In your head, in your head, they are crying..._

He looked down at the corpse of the woman at his feet, the sharpened stick she had tried to impale him with thrust through her middle. He almost thought that it was merciful that she was facedown.

His heartbeat was pounding everywhere at once, inside and outside of him. So close. He could almost smell it, almost sense the Silmaril, and there was only one door in the way now, and no guard.

He turned, and the sound of a step stopped him. He fell still, waiting. Another step. Too tentative to be a warrior.

He turned and threw his long knife. It struck the squire in the eye and sunk deep into his face. He was dead before he hit the floor. Stepping over the woman to check his body for some sort of key – better to remain quiet – he half knelt to retrieve his knife.

He felt every inch of the foot and a half piece of steel slide into his body just below his ribs and through. He watched the point, incuriously, stab into the youth's shoulder and go through that as well.

Everything slowed. It was only when the sword was gone that he began to die.

**Time of Dying – Three Days Grace**

_On the ground I lay_  
_Motionless in pain  
I can see my life flashing before my eyes  
Did I fall asleep  
Is this all a dream  
Wake me up, I'm living a nightmare_

_I will not die (I will not die)  
I will survive_

The room was cold and empty, or maybe the chill ran deeper than that, cold air seeping into veins emptying of blood. He brought his arms around himself and half fell against the wall, coughed wetly and regretted it a moment later for the agony in his gut. Swallowed and regretted that, too. His mouth tasted like copper and wool.

He hadn't even seen his killer's face.

Not dead yet, he tried to remind himself. He imagined that if he focused, he could keep his blood in his body. If nothing else, his will would last long enough for him to know…

Perhaps he could not move. Someone would come. Someone would come, and he would know if they had won, at last.

Eru, it hurt. And all the same, he refused to believe that he was dying. _All the evidence suggests… _but their rules were never his. He would survive. It was not his time to die, not yet.

He still had so much left to do.

**The Art of Suicide – Emilie Autumn**

_Why live a life  
That's painted with pity  
And sadness and strife  
Why dream a dream  
That's tainted with trouble  
And less than it seems  
Why bother bothering_

Curufin faded in and out of consciousness, uncertain which was more real, but knowing that each time the spells were longer and longer. He fought to hold on to his surroundings, but the problem was that he no longer truly wanted to.

A curious kind of lassitude settled in his body, and he eased the pressure of his arms, watched his blood flow with some disinterest. Perhaps there was some reason for this. The world seemed to rock, slightly, and he let his eyes close.

So tired. He hadn't been tired in a long time, or rested properly. How long?

He tried to focus on that, on numbers, concrete things, but his mind refused to stay, wandering on. He thought he remembered his father holding him. But then, his father wasn't so affectionate. Was he?

He leaned back against the wall, trying to keep his eyes open again, but it was so hard to remember why it was important. Everything in his body seemed to urge him to rest, and he wanted to give into it. It was only centuries of discipline, of habit, that would not let him.

He had to wait. For something. It was important.

The world blurred sideways, and he thought again of his father. Would he be with him, now? Would he face his father again, and hear his voice? He could almost hear it now.

But his father would not be pleased if he didn't know what had happened…he took another breath, and another, drawing each one with reluctance and determination. _Sleep, _his body beckoned him. _Sleep, Curufinwë. _

He wanted to obey its urging. At the moment, he thought he had never wanted anything more.

**Thoughts of a Dying Atheist – Muse**

_I know the moment's near  
and there's nothing we can do  
look through a faithless eye  
are you afraid to die?  
It scares the hell out of me  
and the end is all I can see  
and it scares the hell out of me  
and the end is all I can see_

Somewhere between the blur and the dying, he found time to think, and remembered his mad defiance of the Valar, not so long ago. He wanted to laugh, but it only would have torn him open more.

They had found him now, for certain, though. His life was theirs, now, and he could feel what must have been Námo's hands dragging him down, into some darkness that he knew nothing of. What judgment would he face, he thought suddenly, coldly. What could they do to him after this?

"Father," he said, suddenly, "Don't let me die." He knew that it was a useless plea, worse. His father could not save him. His father could not bind his body back together. He had lost for the last time, the only time, and yet somehow…somehow he expected a miracle.

**The Dying Song – The Cruxshadows**

_Dear Angel,  
Where are your warming wings tonight?  
It's so cold outside won't you hold me for a while?  
And Angel,  
I feel alone and unalive  
The night is frozen and these tears have stung my eyes  
Dreams may pass and dreams may fade  
Nothing I love will stay the same  
Nothing ever stays the same_

There was no miracle. Breathing became more and more painful, and he fought the pain at first, and when that was no longer possible drank it in like sweet wine. His blood dripping on the white marble was nearly the color of the dark, sweet, heavy flavors he had favored.

He pulled his hands away from the wound through his body and set them on the floor, wondering if that would make him die faster. It seemed to do nothing, though the pain eased, a little. There would be no more losses.

This was the last one.

He thought of Tyelko, wondered dizzily if he still lived. He tried to open his eyes and thought Finrod stood before him, holding a long blade stained red with blood. He almost laughed. _Cousin, _he rasped, perhaps aloud, _hello, cousin. _The waves beat upon the shore at Losgar and he watched the ships burn and thought with distant, slight affection of his brother Telvo.

_He died in fire. As befits a son of the Spirit of Fire. _

He felt a flash of jealousy. It should have been him, dying in the same manner as their father. "I only ever lived to do your will, Father," he said, and licked his lips, moistening them more with blood than saliva. "Why do you punish me now?"

He spoke to fill the emptiness. Otherwise it frightened him.

**Theatre of Pain – Blind Guardian**

_Now I'm gone  
And it seems that life had never existed  
So we left the dark and cold  
All I left behind are my tears_

He knew his little brother was dead, even still breathing, the moment he saw him. The blood spattered on the walls and sticky on the floor attested to that. But somehow his eyes opened, unfocused, where focus was always so intense. His face was white, except for the blood dried down one cheek.

"Father?"

Maedhros felt his heart clench like a hand squeezed around it, and made his legs move to kneel, to see if there was anything he could do. Curufin's head lifted, eyes still blurry and confused. "Father, I failed you…"

"Shh," Maedhros said, and grasped his brother's wrists, pulled his arms away. He closed his eyes just for a moment and replaced them. It was easy to see there was nothing he could do now. It couldn't be much longer. He hoped. Eru, he hoped.

Curufin fretted. "It's not done. I'm not done." His eyes blinked and fluttered closed. "It hurts. I'm dying and it's all undone."

"Did we – is it-" His heart sank like a stone when he understood what Curufin was trying to ask. Quick footsteps from behind, but he recognized them as Cano's, and heard him stop as well. Maglor would know if he lied.

Curufin's voice failed, and he panted a few times, swallowed visibly. Maitimo could almost see his will alone holding the life in him. He couldn't speak, though, just turned his eyes upward with an expression Maedhros had never seen on his younger sibling's face before. Pleading.

Forgive me, he thought, despairing. I cannot – I cannot.

"Yes," he said, and heard his voice break. "Yes, we recovered the Silmaril. Your duty's done. Go in peace, Curufinwë."

He heard his brother sigh in satisfaction. His eyes remained open, and he breathed a minute or two more as Maedhros watched the shadow settle over him. He sensed the moment, precise, that Curufin's heart ceased to beat, the light in the sky fading with the light in his eyes. Maedhros reached out and closed them, and bowed his head.

**Nothing – The Cruxshadows**

_No life, No love, No dreams, No reason to remain,  
No eyes, No vision, No pain, No, No Nothing, No  
mind, No thought, No sex, No awe to feel, No  
heart, No Nothing, No, No, No Nothing_

Fëanor had given them life. He deserved theirs all in return.


End file.
